


The Ringfinger and a Dried Finger

by HexFox



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Clothed fingering?, Dried Fingers, Dubious Consent?, First work here!, Other, SO, gender neutral ashen one, it's not explicitly said but they're both ok with it, later on there's going to be gore, the world needs more Leonhard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HexFox/pseuds/HexFox
Summary: When the oh so intoxicating Ringfinger Leonhard recommends the Ashen One perhaps gets a dried finger to better serve the Mother of Rebirth, as opposed to forcefully taking what she needs, the Ashen One let's their mind run wild with the implications - turning them into putty in his leather-gloved hands.Leonhard X Gender neutral Ashen One where their sex is never really described in detail. In chapter 2 ther will be gore but chapter 1 is free from such things.





	The Ringfinger and a Dried Finger

“Come on, give yourself to Rosaria, of the Cathedral of the Deep.” Leonhard drawled to the unkindled. They stared at him in response, gazing at his eyes though the holes of his silver mask, glistening by the candlelight of Firelink shrine.

His voice, tinted with a lilt of humour, reverberated off the walls. The deep rumble running straight through the unkindled, heat pooling between their legs. Shifting from one foot to the other, they coughed lightly and looked away from his gaze, trying to dispel the effect the Ringfinger had on them.

Leonhard, to his credit, watched them with a vague disinterest, his arms crossed as he leaned against the Lothric Prince’s throne.

“I don’t think I’m particularly suited to the fingers...” they whispered, bringing a gloved hand to their face, rubbing the tip of their nose underneath the thief’s hood they wore.

“Sure, you are, I can see it in your eyes. If you didn't invade, didn't pillage, whatever would you do?“ He chuckled, observing the unkindled’s slight reaction to the noise. A fascinating response indeed.

“Perhaps. But I still haven’t used any of the cracked orbs you gave me, or this whole one you led me to.” They responded, distracting themselves from the intimate and intimidating presence Leonhard just seemed to exude.

His interest piqued at that. “Oh, so you’ve refused to invade. No matter, there is a way you can still please the mistress if you so choose. Get yourself a dried finger, use that and you’ll have more chances to gather what the mistress desires.”

“Are you telling me to finger myself!?” The unkindled spat, spluttering at the implications.

Leonhard laughed; a deep, throaty, chuckle. The sound doing ungodly things to the unkindled’s body, the images of a dried finger not helping in the slightest.  
“It’s up to you how you use it. I’m not adverse to the application, I’m more interested in the results.” He regarded them again, tugging at the sides of their thief’s hood, the hint of heat rushing to their cheeks.

Fascinating indeed.

When the unkindled did not respond, Leonhard reiterated his invitation to the covenant of fingers, “Come on, give yourself to Rosaria, of the Cathedral of the Deep. It’s sure to be more fun than returning these sorry lords to their cold thrones.”

“Right.” The unkindled managed to choke out, before shuffling away from him. Away from his threatening and alluring aura. Away from that voice of his that sends the unkindled’s body into a burning fervour. 

He watched them go, walk down the way passed the sad deserter, the fire keeper and around to the shrine handmaiden. His eyes crinkling with amusement as they followed his advice. 

This would be fun.

—

The unkindled sat at the bonfire within the Cathedral of the Deep, old man Gael whispering his prayers about the painted world in the background behind them.

“‘Use the finger’” The unkindled whispered to themselves. “He was telling me to finger myself...” they held the old, mummified finger in their hands, looking over the long-clawed appendage. The item looked far too sinister, and painful, to actually be used that way.

“Sadistic bastard...” 

Images of Leonhard’s sliver mask popped into their head, his deep chuckle echoing in the recesses of their mind, sending unwanted ripples through their form.

“No, no!” The unkindled stood up from the bonfire with a start, “I’m not letting him get the better of me!” They swiftly stuck the finger back inside their pocket, it dissolving into faint light until they needed it again.

“I can do this without his advice,” they reaffirmed to themselves. In fact, they had a niggling feeling in the back of their head that he was just trying to make their life harder, but quickly dismissed the thought. 

Having already opened the shortcut to the elevator, the unkindled followed the way up, dispatching hollows as they came across them. They clambered up the ladder which lead to the upper rooftops of the cathedral and made their way precariously past the thieves and chapel guardians. Quietly they slunk over the rafters of the chapel below, watching the Cathedral Knights patrol the slim footholds. Dashing past one, they dropped to the other side where the enigma Patches stood behind a maggot mage. 

Making quick conversation with the bald man, they moved forwards and quickly dispatched the grotesque, writing forms of the maggot men and mages standing outside of a room dripping with odd substances. One maggot mage stood quietly above the rest, and the unkindled regarded them for a moment, looking for signs of aggression. When the found none, they lowered their twin daggers and relaxed, walking into the odd room.

Candles hung from what appeared to be cradles. In fact, on a more careful inspection, there was cradles all throughout the room, that same slimy looking stuff coating the walls.

“Gross... OH BONFIRE!” The Unkindled shouted, running towards the coiled sword jutting out of a pile of old bones. They stoked the simmering embers and felt the bonfire spring back to life, warming the very fabric of their being. 

They flexed their arms a little bit, feeling for their remaining strength and checked how full their shining Estus was. Both seemed to be in good shape and they really didn’t want to deal with those maggot things again, so they opted against resting for now.

Looking up and forward, they somehow managed to miss the giant king-sized bed in front of them, and a large woman resting upon it.

They shifted their eyes from side to side, looking up at the ceiling for any signs of danger, and then cautiously approached her from.

The unkindled fingered the hilts of their twin daggers as they drew closer. The woman merely watched them from her perch on the bed, holding what appeared to be another maggot man. They pulled a face under their mask, peering around the sides of the bed and then up at the gargantuan lady.

Once they felt certain nothing, including the big lady, was going to jump them they cleared their throat.

“...Hi.” They said, waving a little, “who are you?” They asked. 

The lady did not respond. Hmm...

The unkindled though back to the last time they met someone who didn’t speak. There was that big wolf in the woods... Oh! Maybe she had a covenant.

The unkindled straightened their back and then knelt before the lady. As soon as they did, a collection of options appeared in their mind, the echo of a name coming to the forefront.

“Rosaria...” the unkindled breathed, looking over the options in their mind, “I would like to join the covenant of Fingers.”

Rosaria made no motion, merely watching the unkindled as they offered up the pale tongue in their inventory.

A ring appeared in the unkindled‘s hand as they rose, wrapped in a patch with a peculiar design stitched into it.

The undead looked back at Rosaria, silent as she was, and gave her a two-finger salute as they bounced away from her.

“I guess Leonhard’ll like this...” they said to themselves as they giddily waltzed past the bonfire towards the entrance, thinking about the man that gave them conflicted emotions.

—

"Ahh, so you've chosen to serve Rosaria after all. She will be pleased with me for finding her another Finger...” a deep, resounding, voice sounded from the entrance of the room.

The unkindled stopped walking mid-stride and shot their head up at the sound, not expecting the man of their thoughts to materialise in front of them. 

Leonhard regarded them coolly from behind his silver mask. The unkindled saw the small shake of his shoulders before they heard a chuckle come from the man, the sound sending their nethers into a tizzy. Their mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Once the unkindled had enough control of their body back, they managed to swallow thickly and walk towards him.

“But be warned, my friend. Rosaria's Fingers need only fetch tongues for their mistress. Otherwise, we are free, unchained.” He continued, looking over the form of the unkindled before him, cheeks dusted red with both fear and intrigue in their eyes.

He tore his gaze from them and looked toward the door across the other side of the great chamber where the enslaved giants stood.

The unkindled fidgeted, waiting for him to continue, fingering the rim of their pocket where they stored their belongings.

“Like Yellowfinger, you can choose to believe that all Fingers share camaraderie.” He continued, as he turned his head back towards the unkindled before finishing, “But do not force your romance on the rest of us.”

The unkindled waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have finished his short monologue.

“Well, thanks for the welcome.” The unkindled said, saluting the masked man with their left hand, “does this mean I get a finger-thing too?”

That got his attention. 

“I’m sorry, a what?” Leonhard asked, moving his head to look directly at them from behind his mask.

The unkindled coughed awkwardly, “you know, like how HaSeul is the Yellowfinger, and you’re the Ringfinger-“ 

“Oh, you’re referring to a title. Like _Heysel_ , Kirk and myself.” He said, correcting the unkindled on their mispronunciation of Yellowfinger‘s name. He did sound a little bit disappointed about something else though.

“The Lady is one who would bestow that to you, once you’ve proven yourself.” He said.

“Oh, that’s a shame, see I had a cool idea for my title, Middlefinger-“ the unkindled began, gesturing wildly with their hands, but Leonhard cut them off before they could finish.

“You’re a fascinating one...” he began, “you said you’ve never invaded, yet you had a Tongue for the mistress. I’d bet that you’ve still not used that orb I led you to yet, either.” 

“The what-now?” The unkindled asked, still paused in motion when Leonhard cut them off the first time. “Oh- Oh, wait I remember... yeah, no, I haven’t used it.” They said.

“Have you done what I suggested?” He asked, “did you use the dried finger?”

The unkindled balked at him.  
“I did get one...” they admitted, “but it’s so pointy looking! I don’t want to use it!”

Leonhard was silent for a moment, before he broke out in a true laugh, something that wracked his frame and he lost his composure for a moment.

“Don’t laugh at me!” The unkindled shouted, even though his unbridled laughter squeezed their heart so tightly and nearly took their breath away.

Leonhard regained his composure, stifling his laughter as he faced them again.

“Never had I heard that the Dried Finger was too ‘pointy looking’ to use.” He admitted.

The unkindled pouted beneath their mask, and despite Leonhard not being able to see it directly, he could tell they were. Then an idea struck him. 

But the unkindled, in all their fascinating naivety beat him to voicing it.

“Then show me how to use it.” They said, staring at him dead in the eyes. Their raw determination palpable, even if seasoned with a hint of fear.

Or maybe they knew exactly what they wanted... Leonhard found it incessantly enticing regardless.

“If you insist.” He said and reached forward, grabbing them by the collar of their assassin’s coat and pulling them towards him.

The unkindled was maneuvered into the corner of the supporting strut Leonhard was leaning against, hiding both them and him from the stoic view of their Lady and any potential prying eyes.

He took them by the hip, pressing his gloved fingers against them, bringing his body close to their own.

The unkindled splayed their hands against the cold stone wall, as Leonhard brought his other hand up so they could see as he curled it and left two fingers in their vision.

Their breath caught in their throat as he dragged his hand down their body; his touch sending sparks crackling along their skin and arousal flaring between their legs. 

And, _oh Gods_ , that’s where he was headed. The unkindled could barely believe this was happening. 

As soon as he made contact with the sensitive space between their legs, the unkindled lost all semblance of reality. They barely even registered that Leonhard was saying words when he spoke by their ear.

“The dried finger,” he said, as he rolled his hand against their clothed sex, “has many uses. Some use it to find extra help, while others crave the challenge it provides.” 

The unkindled made to spout a witty remark at that, but Leonhard had moved his fingers in a way that had their knees weak, sensing jolts of pleasure up their spine. Any words they might’ve said flew out the proverbial window as they gasped against his actions.

Their hands shot out and grabbed him by the offending arm. Leonhard paused for a moment, confusion and concern dancing in his mind, until the fascinating ash before him languidly rolled their hips into his hand.

Any lesson he was pretending to impart was lost as they began chasing their own pleasure. He moved his free hand from pressing into their hip and brought it up to rest above their shoulder. The unkindled held his forearm in their hands as they fucked themselves on his fingers.

Their breath shook with each movement, their eyes looking up at him from beneath the thief’s hood, flushed cheeks and flecks of hair sticking to their forehead.

The unkindled let out a wanton moan as they continued. Leonhard didn’t want to admit it, but the sound of their moans (and the way they tried to stop them), their huffing breath, the way they were just _fucking themselves_ on his fingers was beginning to drive even him mad with desire. He could feel that same heat pool between his own legs.

Their hips moved even faster for a moment, thrusts becoming sloppy and desperate, before they sputtered to a stop and let out a choked cry as they came undone on him.

Struggling to catch their breath, the unkindled fell backwards, resting against the cold stone wall. Their thighs squeezed together with his hand still wedged against their arousal, a seeping dampness signalling their release.

Gently, Leonhard removed his hand from their crotch and slowly drew it up their form. Caressing their frame upwards until they reached the side of their face. Slowly he tugged down the portion of their thief’s mask that covered their nose and mouth, revealing their flushed completion and open mouth, still gasping for breath.

Leonhard ran his fingers over their cheek and slowly pressed his thumb into their mouth. Immediately the unkindled sucked the gloved appendage, pressing their tongue into the tip of his thumb and locking their half-lidded eyes with his behind that silver mask.

Their teeth dig gently into the glove, placing such promising pressure on his thumb. He removed the appendage from their mouth with a wet pop, a line of saliva connecting them. 

Roughly, Leonhard took their shoulder and pressed downwards, letting out a deep growing rumble that sent the unkindled into a renewed fervour. They brought their hands up to his shoulders, languidly running their fingers down his chest as they lowered themselves, with surprising grace, to their knees on the cold stone floor.

Their hands ran down his legs, their eyes focused on the tight bulge in the front of his darkly tanned leather pants. One of their hands tugged on the top of his thigh high boots, while the other hand reached around to squeeze his firm ass. They looked up into his glistening silver mask through their lashes and smirked, before pressing their face against the bulge in his pants.

His chest rumbled with unspoken approval, sending the unkindled’s loins afire all over again. Their open mouth kissed at the soft leather as Leonhard ran his hand up the side of their head. He pushed the thief’s hood back, off of their head, and fisted his hand in their hair.

The unkindled’s other hand stroked its way up Leonhard’s other leg, situated itself beside its twin and pulled him closer to them as they licked and sucked at the impression of his cock. Leonhard tugged hard at their hair as they nipped at his tip with their teeth, massaging their scalp as they worked his length beneath his pants. 

The soft touch of their ministrations was bringing to become frustrating, there but not quite enough. It seemed the fascinating ash had read his mind once again and moved their hands upwards from his ass and began fingering the hem of his pants, where his undershirt was tucked into.

They ran their fingers around the edge of the garment, reaching around the front, never stopping their oral assault to his cock, and casually slipped their fingers through the two buttons on the front. 

Pausing to gather their breath, the unkindled pulled their mouth from him and gently tugged his trousers downwards enough to allow access to their prize. Leonhard had a moment of unease as their fingers brushed across some of the scarred skin on his abdomen, hidden by his shirt, but dispelled his momentary worry by massaging their scalp, as they manoeuvred him into the open.

His cock, now exposed to the cool air of the cathedral, stood strong, his tip beading precum. The unkindled looked upwards to his eyes again, before returning to what stood before them. Whetting their lips, which just the sight of caused Leonhard’s cock to twitch, the unkindled pressed the tip of their tongue to his head. Lapping up the beads of precum, they slowly, oh so fucking slowly, lowered their head to take him all - Oh Rosaria, _fucking all of him_ , into their mouth.

The unkindled moved at just the right pace. Gently sucking on him as he sat within their mouth, they slowly pulled backwards, lightly dragging their teeth along his length before shoving him back down into their throat, brushing against the ridged part of their pharynx - displaying immense control not to gag at the speed of their actions.

Moaning around him, as they bobbed their head up and down nearly sent him over the edge. His hips twitched as he groaned, tightly tugging on the unkindled’s hair as they continued their onslaught.

Rubbing their tongue against the underside of his cock, they sucked and bobbed their head with increased vigour. Wantonly moaning as they continued, they could feel the pulse of want radiating from their own sex, begging to be touched again. 

They felt Leonhard’s hips twitch against them, his hand fisting periodically at their hair, and they knew he was reaching his peak. Running their left hand along the opening in his pants, the tugged lightly before reaching in. 

When they began fondling his balls, he lost it. Letting out a guttural moan that echoed off the walls of the cathedral, he came undone into them. Losing control of his thrusts in the last moment, he pushed wildly into their mouth, huffing behind his now stuffy mask and spilling his seed into their awaiting body.

The unkindled swallowed thickly, taking it all in, breathing harshly through their nose as he finished.

Leonhard’s shoulders slumped as he finished, his whole body losing its rigidity as he slipped from their lips. The unkindled removed their hand from his pants and wiped at the string of Leonhard’s cum that dribbled down their chin.

Catching his breath, Leonhard managed to tuck himself back into his pants as the unkindled unsteadily rose to their feet - their knees aching from being pressed against the cathedrals cold, hard, floor.

Leonhard regarded them as they watched him, leaning against the corner he pushed them into at the start. When he’d finally recovered, he tucked his shirt back into his pants and bushed off his coat.

Clearing his throat, he made to speak to them, but the unkindled spoke first.

“Hmm... I want to kiss you.” They said. Caught off guard, he was unable to say anything to them as the placed a hand on his shoulder, moved forward and pressed their lips to his mask, where his lips would be.

When they pulled away, they hovered in front of his face, before giving him a half-hearted smile. 

Leonhard huffed, “Do not force your romance on the rest of us.” He said again, as he had earlier. The unkindled laughed as they pulled up their thief’s mask and tugged their hood back over their hair, their cheeks dusted pink with minor embarrassment.

Pulling away from him, they began waltzing towards the bonfire before the Lady of Fingers. Turning back to look at him, they gave him their two-fingered salute.

“Thanks for the wild ride, Ringfinger.” They said, as they turned away from him again and rested down by the bonfire. A flurry of ash enveloped them, and they disappeared as the smoke cleared, transported to someplace else.

Leonhard stood there, spent and dumbfounded. His brow furrowed beneath his mask as he stared at the bonfire they rested at, thoughts preoccupied with thoughts of the encounter. So, distracted he was, he didn’t even notice the set of footsteps walking towards him from behind.

“Never seen you so distracted before, Ringfinger...” they said, directly behind him, causing Leonhard to reach for his sickle and he spun to face them.

“Creighton...” he growled, narrowing his eyes at his comrade.

The deer motif on his tabard was stained dark red and brown and the man himself stank of blood. He cocked his head to the side as he hoisted up two, now pale, tongues in his hand.

Leonhard grumbled as he lowered his sickle, replacing it within his enchanted pocket.

“Never thought you’d be the one to desecrate the Lady’s bedchamber like that, getting your little dick sucked right in front of her.” He teased, silver hair bouncing on his shoulders.

Leonhard made no comeback, didn’t deign to feed into his teasing. He grunted once and strode past him, hitting his companion hard in the shoulder as he went, causing Creighton to bark out a laugh which echoed off the walls of the cathedral.

—

When the unkindled reappeared at their original bonfire inside the chapel, their cocky facade broke away and they hugged their knees closer to themselves.

“‘Thanks for the wild ride?’ What was I thinking!” They cried, falling onto their side, “Oh gods how am I going to face him again, just “hi! Thanks for letting me suck you off?” They groaned and pulled themselves up onto their elbows. 

“Hey Gael? What do you think? Huh? Can you just say “Hi!” After blowing someone?” They asked the old man, praying at the chapel alter. He didn’t respond of course, but just asking him distracted them from the whole dilemma.

Distracted them enough that they noticed they were still ragingly horny. Oh, gods he probably noticed that. “Ughhhhhh!” They cried, flopping onto their back.

Something toppled out of their pocket as they did and poked them in their side. Mumbling they pulled out the offending item to be met face to face with the dried finger in all its sinister glory.

The face the unkindled pulled at the innocuous item could only be described as pure disgust as they chucked it across the chapel. It seemed to glimmer as it flew before it clattered to the floor and vanished like dissolving ash, appearing back in their pocket.

They lay spread out on the floor of the chapel. Closing their eyes, they tried to forget the embarrassing experience. That is, until they heard the tell-tale sign of someone appearing in their world, a red sign of warning briefly flashing in their brain before panic set in.

“Oh, fucking hell not now!” They cried, scrambling to their feet as an iron-clad behemoth named UpDog swung at them with a hulking great axe. 

As they ran as fast as their legs could take them, they snapped a white birch branch and took the slow-moving form of a tombstone. Nestling into a corner in the hallow-infested graveyard.

Out of the corner of their vision, the noticed _another fucking invader_ appear, this time with the name Raphiel. They looked around and nearly straight away noticed the unkindled’s position.

“Oh, gods oh fuck.” They whispered as the red head in black knight’s armour trudged up to them. 

Tossing the “hey” stone at them, they cast chameleon and sat as another tombstone next to them.

“What the fuck what the fuck, I’m going to die.” The unkindled panicked to themselves.

They’re they sat, with UpDog eventually returning home out of boredom, and this Raphiel character inching closer and closer to their hidden form as another tombstone. The unkindled refused to move, as he began circling them - still as a tombstone.

Finally feeling brave enough, they began circling him back.

This odd dance continued until Raphiel rolled towards them and ran off.

They dispelled their tombstone form and stood there dumbfounded at their luck, as the words “invader defeated” appeared in their mind, and another pale tongue manifested in their hand.

As they slowly crept back to the bonfire, they understood then just what Leonhard meant when he said that some crave the challenge it provides.

“Sadistic bastard!” They cried, as they used the bonfire to take them back to the relative safety of Firelink shrine.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I hope you liked reading this as much as I did writing it! I've been stuck in a writers block stage for many years but this fic (and FromSoft games in general) pulled me out of it! Let me know what you think! ^.^
> 
> Some references in the fic you may or may not've picked up on:
> 
> * Yellowfinger HaSeul is a reference to LOONA's member HaSeul  
> * The invader UpDog really happened to me at the chapel but they killed me  
> * The second invader, Raphiel is one of my friends OC's that may or may not make more apparences in future fics.  
> * The unkindled is based in my head off my OC Vim (see also Vhim and Vym)  
> * I really like Creighton and needed him in here


End file.
